


Stories Told 'Round the Fire

by electric_octopus



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Other, Tumblr Prompt, literally nothing but prompts, lots of prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 17:23:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13529022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electric_octopus/pseuds/electric_octopus
Summary: A collection of drabbles and prompts featuring the lives of Guardians when not in the middle of saving humanity and fighting back the Darkness. The in between moments are just as important to know as the main events.





	1. "I wanted to say "I love you" without stuttering and failed."

**Author's Note:**

> most, if not all, of these are going to be from my tumblr whenever i post a sentence prompt or something like it because they need a place here too

Asher was cantankerous, peevish, and something of a know-it-all. He never bothered anything or anyone he didn’t deem worth his time.

Sometimes Ira couldn’t believe that Asher had said yes to a date in the first place, but he wasn’t going to complain. They had been dating (and that seemed almost childish to say because dating was something that Asher Mir just didn’t do) for four months, with Ira slipping in dates here and there because it was a rare thing when their schedules matched up for any meaningful length of time, and he felt ready to say it.

He had practiced in front of a mirror (and had been caught by Apollo much to his embarrassment) for days leading up to the next date he had planned. Which was just another “order some food and find a nice quiet place to sit and eat” date because they were always so pressed for time that Ira had started feeling like the Vanguard was being deliberate in making their schedules.

At least he had gotten to know what Asher enjoyed eating because of all those dates since he had picked up food (skewers for Asher because those were easy to eat with one hand and he never stopped working, pho for himself because he liked the noodles, and a small plate of dumplings to share), and waited at the library door. He wasn’t going to tempt fate by walking through the stacks with food and have the wrath of half a dozen librarians fall on his head.

He had Rayner send messages to Sela, and watched with glee as she knocked into Asher’s head, pushing him out the door with more force than a Ghost probably should.

She couldn’t make him drop the journal he was holding though, vanishing in a flash of light as Ira led Asher to the spot he had chosen to eat lunch together.

Ira stirred his noodles for the dozenth time, watching the broth swirl. He and Asher were sitting shoulder to shoulder, eating in comfortable silence. Worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, Ira breathed. “I l-love you.”

Asher stiffened beside him, and Ira dropped his chopsticks in his bowl, splashing broth onto his lap.

“Pardon?” Asher turned his head to look at Ira and saw his cheeks were a dark blue color, and was resting his forehead on a closed fist while the other hand clutched at his bowl so hard that his knuckles were white.

“I wanted to say “I love you” for the first time without stuttering.” Ira heaved a sigh. “But that failed.”

“Obviously,” Asher quipped. Ira fished a chopstick out of his bowl and flung some of the broth at Asher. He got jabbed by a skewer in return.

“I meant it though,” he said, brandishing his chopstick like a knife now. If Asher was going to pull that move, then he wasn’t above it either. “I love you.”

Asher moved his jaw, like he was running words over in his mouth. His brow was furrowed, and he closed his eyes. “I feel the same. Even if you do get broth everywhere.” He opened his eyes to shoot a glare at Ira. Not that it mattered because Ira had a grin so wide it threatened to split his face.

“It just means I really love you,” Ira said, and turned his attention back to his food.


	2. it’s what’s inside that counts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ira’s insides aren’t what one would call normal

It started with Ira and Guardian perched precariously on one of Io’s many cliffs, Borealis in Ira’s hands and hitting every mark Guardian gave him.

It ended with a Minotaur striking Ira and sending him spiraling off the cliff. Guardian heard the crack of bones the moment metal met skin, and they threw a void grenade at the Vex in retaliation. They didn’t watch as the burning sensation pulled at their side and tore the Minotaur apart from the inside out. Instead, they peered over the edge of the cliff.

Miraculously, Ira was alive. He was on his knees, one hand cradling his face as his Ghost stitched everything back together. Guardian scrambled down the cliff edge, picking up Borealis on the way down, and slid to their knees beside Ira.

An Awoken had red blood, Guardian knew this very well. Whenever Shaxx would give them a bloody nose or a split lip (completely on accident), or they would tear their knuckles or get shot during patrols, they bled red.

Ira’s face wasn’t covered in red. The blood dripping from his mouth and the torn skin of his cheek that his Ghost was steadily repairing wasn’t dark red at all, it glinted in the light of Io’s day. Sparkling, really. Like it was gold. It stained his gloves, leaving behind dark yellow trails as he tried to keep the liquid from dripping onto his chest.

It didn’t look like gold, not exactly. Gold was vibrant, glittering, like what Guardian saw in the City. This was dark, coagulated, smearing across his skin and drying in the same way blood did. But nothing else came to mind. Guardian placed a hand on Ira’s knee, and waited.

Then, Ira grinned at them, golden blood stuck between teeth, his cheek heavily bruised and torn, like nothing was wrong. That’s when Guardian decided it was best to go see Asher.

The Gensym Scribe didn’t like many things. Didn’t like being interrupted, didn’t like how others simply didn’t _get_ his work, didn’t like Titans, and he absolutely hated his Vex arm and Brakion for what it did to his Ghost. For some reason that Guardian didn't quite understand, he did like Ira. Even if he pretended otherwise. Asher would put up with Ira’s touches, commenting gruffly on the chill of Ira’s fingers on his hand or face.

Guardian didn’t know how deep Ira’s relationship with Asher was, but it was enough that when Guardian helped Ira hobble up to Asher’s computer, Asher stopped typing, noticed the blood coagulating on Ira’s face, and all but dragged the pair to the small hut he used as a base of operations despite Ira’s protestations and confidence in his Ghost’s skill to fix him up properly without dying.

“It would’ve been better if you _had_ died,” Asher commented, holding the door open for Ira and Guardian. “Since you didn’t, there’s a basin in the back, you know where it is. Try and clean yourself up before you leave blood over everything.”

“Yes, Asher,” Ira replied, prying himself out of Guardian’s grip and limped through a curtain covered doorway, leaving Guardian to draw their hands close to their center and chew on their bottom lip.

The silence between Asher and Guardian wasn’t tense. All things considered, the two of them were on fairly decent terms with each other, or Guardian supposed they were. Guardian did help with Asher’s research after all, the least they could do since they disrupted a Taken ritual during the Red War. And deep, deep, very deep down, Asher was nice.

In his own way.

(They could feel Willow roll his optic through their bond.)

(Well, Guardian liked him, so that had to count for something.)

“What happened?” Asher addressed them suddenly. He didn’t bother to turn his head to look at them, his gaze fixated on the room Ira was in.

“Um,” Guardian cleared their throat, and shifted on their feet, “a Minotaur kicked him in the face.” They didn’t mention that they and Ira were sitting on a cliff without their helmets on taking pot shots at Vex, Taken, and Cabal because the two of them thought it would be funny. “Asher, what, uh, why is Ira’s-”

Asher turned to look at them, a brow raised, and silently appraised them. The stare had Guardian shrinking into their cloak. “You know that Awoken were once human, yes?” They nodded. “Humans have a very small amount of gold in their system. Somehow, some _time_ in between Ira’s death and reawakening, the gold in his system multiplied and spread into his bloodstream. I’m surprised you haven’t seen this before.”

“Usually he either gets, um, vaporized, or his body is flung away.” They’ve never had to see him bleed before. The robes he wore were always dark and heavy enough to hide any blood, gold or not, but since he started wearing the Philomath robes, thin as they were, the blood was a bit more obvious. “So, the, um, the black and gold-?”

“That’s Ira thinking that he’s _clever_.”

Ira’s voice called through the curtain, “That’s because it is!” He poked his head through the curtain, blood gone from his face and his cheek no longer a mess of torn skin and muscle. “And my blood’s not the only thing that’s gold.”

“ _Ira_.” Asher hissed as Ira waggled his eyebrows, a broad grin on his face.

Guardian cocked their head, eyes glancing between the color rising on Asher’s face and the guileless expression on Ira’s. Then, “Ooooohhh,” they whispered to themself, mouth dropping into an O shape. “Ira, that seems messy.”

“It is. Just ask Asher.”

“ _Ira!_ ”


	3. "Don't pull away... not yet."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> something sweet with my exo husbands

Apollo knew better than anyone that Hemlock didn’t like to be touched.

Between his intimidating size and almost gruff manner of speaking, Hemlock didn’t have to worry about anyone he didn’t want touching him.

Of course, that meant that moments like these were very sparse.

They were laying on their sides, chests touching, with Hemlock’s head tucked under Apollo’s chin. Their position hadn’t changed for a full hour. Which was just a little odd since the current record was only thirty minutes.

But Hemlock knew that behind doors, Apollo loved laying in bed and doing nothing, and Apollo knew that Hemlock would never deny him the opportunity to do just that.

It was a matter of give and take.

He waited a few more minutes before he lifted his hands and started to slowly slide out of bed.

“Don’t,” Hemlock grumbled. “Don’t pull away… not yet.”

There were times when Apollo would forget how strong Hemlock was. Honestly, he shouldn’t. One, he was an Exo, and two, he had seen Hemlock and Shaxx spar before and the entire room needed to be fixed after it was over. Arms tightened around his waist, and tugged him closer than he had been originally. The sound he made was embarrassing, and he flicked Hemlock’s jaw for the wry chuckle that followed.

Sighing, Apollo settled back down, and tucked Hemlock’s head back under his chin.

“Okay,” he said. “Just tell me when you’re ready.”


	4. "Hold Still"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what is subtlety

This whole thing was embarrassing.

Not the fact that Sadik was sitting on his back, that was nothing to be embarrassed about, or that he was stripped down to his underwear, but the fact that he had fallen into a patch of Guardian’s cacti.

The needles didn’t hurt. At most, they pinched, and many of the needles had fallen out when he had taken off his shirt and pants. That didn’t stop the slight twitch that happened every time Sadik pulled out a needle.

A needle was pulled out more roughly than any of the others, and Shaxx couldn’t help flinching. Sadik tapped him twice on the back of his thigh, and he he grumbled. “Go faster,” he said, and a hand rubbed his calf apologetically.

Sadik worked in silence, with the only sound being the tweezers clinking against the bowl that held all of the cacti needles. And then he felt metal pressing against the inside of his thigh, and he almost unseated Sadik, hissing out a curse because there was no way a needle was stuck there. Sadik pushed him against the floor again, and Shaxx twisted, grabbing at the back of Sadik’s shirt, ready to throw him off.

“Stop,” Sadik said and that was enough to make Shaxx loosen his grip. Sadik talking meant that he should listen. “Hold still. There’s one left, and it’s right there.” Shaxx huffed, but kept his hand fisted in Sadik’s shirt.

“It better be,” he warned. A hand patted the back of his thigh, and Shaxx steeled himself for the needle coming out. Sadik shifted slightly when his leg kicked out as the needle was pulled, more out of instinct than anything, and slumped against the floor. The Titan hummed, holding up the needle against the light before dropping it into the bowl with the rest of them.

Feather light touches pressed against his inner thigh. “All done,” Sadik said as he slid off of Shaxx. Almost immediately he missed having a steady weight on top of him, but Shaxx quickly stamped down that line of thought, stretching where Sadik had left him on the floor.

“I see you still have those magic fingers.” Shaxx grinned lazily up at Sadik as the needles were dumped in the trash and the bowl and tweezers were left on the table. The grin grew wider when he saw shoulders shake with suppressed laughter. “Thanks, Sadik.”

Turning slightly, showing off the smile on his face, Sadik signed, “You’re welcome.”


	5. “It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.”

It wasn’t often that Asher would wake up and see Ira sneaking around in the dark.

It was even less often that Asher had to wrestle a bottle out of his hands.

Ira fought him of course, holding onto the bottle like it was a lifeline, but Asher twisted his arm hard enough that he let go of it with a huff. Icy eyes glared at him through the dark, and Asher made sure to exaggerate the roll of his own.

Turning the bottle around in his hands, Asher squinted as he read the bottle. His brow furrowed, and he glared at Ira, holding the offending item out of the way when he tried to lunge for it. “It is six in the morning,” Asher hissed. Ira tried for the bottle again, and was thwarted when it was tossed in the air and landed directly in Asher’s Vex hand with a small _tink_ and the liquid inside the bottle sloshed around. “You’re not having vodka at six in the morning.”

“It is not six in the morning,” Ira whined. Either he had just came from another planet, or had been on another three day study period Asher didn’t know or particularly care. Silently, he pointed at the clock, it’s glowing digits showing the time, and Ira sighed. “It wasn’t six in the morning last time I checked.”

Asher held the bottle loosely in his fingers when he was sure that Ira wouldn’t try to grab it again. “Where did you even get vodka?” He asked.

At that, Ira brightened up. “Jai found it and gave it to me! It’s our anniversary soon, so-”

“So you thought I’d want to drink alcohol?” That was the last thing Asher wanted to do. Ever.

Ira snorted inelegantly. “No. I’d like to continue the tradition of us being sober. It’s a… bribe. To keep people out of the way. Just for a few hours mind you, but I know you miss the peace and quiet.” His grin slowly chipped away at Asher’s annoyance. It was a thoughtful gift, he couldn’t deny that, even if it wasn't for him personally.

“Very well. Keep it out of the way until then,” Asher said. “And keep it a secret. I don’t need a bunch of Guardians knocking at my door for alcohol.”


	6. “I’m asking you not to do this."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just realized i forgot to add a pairing, oh dear

Very rarely has Sadik seen Shaxx cry. He could count on one hand the number of times the Crucible Handler had cried in front of him, and each time felt like a blow to his gut. It was a near thing when Shaxx had returned from the Consensus with a warning to not go to Luna because the Guardians didn’t have any information on the Hive and Shaxx couldn’t quite break the secrets of the swords that he had obtained from Burning Lake. Shaxx’s eyes had shimmered in frustration, but it passed quickly when Sadik had stood in front of him with a smile on his face.

A smile won’t fix this.

Shaxx’s head was bowed, shoulders shaking and his fists curled tight enough that his knuckles were pale. Sadik had watched as Shaxx’s face crumpled, nostrils flaring and jaw clenching hard enough that the muscles jumped. His breathing was harsh and wet, and he all but collapsed in the chair behind him.

Sadik was quick to slide to his knees in front of Shaxx, placing his hands on the outside of Shaxx’s thighs and trying to look him in the face. The curly red hair covered his eyes to a point where the only way Sadik knew he was crying was from the tears that slowly slid down his cheeks and getting caught in his beard. Sadik’s eyes widened in surprise, and moved his hands from Shaxx’s thighs to hold his wrists. He didn’t flinch when Shaxx reversed his grip, clutching at Sadik in a way that was just shy of leaving behind bruises. Even when he was upset, Shaxx was well aware of his strength.

“Don’t go to the moon,” Shaxx begged, catching Sadik off guard. He had never heard Shaxx beg for anything, or to anyone. There was a level of pride that Shaxx had that kept him from pleading, but the fact that he had slumped into a chair crying had Sadik’s heart hammer in his chest as he begged.

It would only take a gentle tug for Sadik’s hands to be let go, and under normal circumstances Sadik would have taken his hands back but between the tears that were blurring Shaxx’s vision and the way his fingers were shaking kept him from doing so. Besides, this was Shaxx, and he trusted him wholeheartedly.

“I have to,” Sadik said, voice soft and light. Even when he spoke out loud it was easy for him to be drowned out by other people, but Shaxx always heard him, always made sure that he knew that someone was listening.

It was nice, possibly one of the nicest things anyone could ever do for him.

No you don’t,” was the argument. Shaxx leaned forward in his seat until their foreheads were touching. “If you go you’ll _die_. We know so little about the Hive that it’s suicide. And _Zavala_ -” he said the Commander’s name with such vitriol that Sadik almost recoiled “-has forbidden me from leaving the Tower until after the offensive happens.”

Sadik sighed and closed his eyes. There was no real way to comfort Shaxx. If he told him that Roksana was going as well then the anger would return tenfold because Roksana was a constant in both of their lives. Even if he promised that he would stick close to her and her desire to protect so many people, they were still choosing to walk into an active war zone. The decision made Sadik feel wretched, but he wouldn’t go back on it. “I do.” He sighed when he felt Shaxx’s head dip lower to rest on his shoulder, and he could feel the tears go through his shirt. “We have to try something, Shaxx.”

Shaxx didn’t say anything after that, and Sadik was content to kneeling on the floor and letting the Crucible Handler take comfort in the fact that he was physically there. He knew that Shaxx held himself apart from so many people that when he allowed himself to touch another person, it was the only thing he craved for hours.

Minutes passed, an ache settled in Sadik’s legs and knees from remaining in one position for so long. The tears had long since dried, but the tremors in Shaxx’s shoulders remained. He couldn’t bring himself to pull away, worried that if he did then it would be taken as a rejection.

A rejection of what Sadik wasn’t sure of, but he didn’t want to find out.

When Shaxx spoke again his voice was quiet and raspy in a way Sadik had never heard before. “I’m asking you not to do this,” he croaked.

Sadik didn’t have any response for him. He clenched his jaw, tilting his head to rub his cheek against coarse hair, and pulled his hands out of Shaxx’s grasp. He pulled him out of the chair, silently glad that Shaxx was going along with him, and settled them both on the floor. His legs cramped when he stretched them out, but it was a pain that was pushed aside. Almost immediately, Shaxx pulled him into a bone crushing hug, one of his hands going up to the back of Sadik’s neck and grabbing a handful of hair. Gently, Sadik touched Shaxx’s cheek in return and wrapped his other arm around his shoulders. “I’ll come back,” Sadik swore, noting the hitch in Shaxx’s breathing. “I won’t die on the moon.”

(Later, on the day where Guardians were filled with anxious energy and all eyes were pointed at Luna and the infestation happening beneath the gray rocks, Shaxx pulled Sadik aside. He didn’t point out the nervous fidgeting or the fact that his fingers clenched and unclenched rhythmically, simply took him away from the masses into a deserted hallway and took his his helmet off. The bags under his eyes had grown larger over the past few weeks, his hair stood on end and his beard was unkempt. The man was exhausted and Sadik was at a loss to help him.

Shaxx placed a hand on the back of Sadik’s neck, pulling him forward to press their foreheads together. For a moment, they breathed each other’s air, taking and giving comfort in equal measure.

“You better return,” Shaxx whispered.

Sadik nodded. He had every intention of coming back to the Tower regardless of the outcome.

They stayed in the hallway until a message had forced Sadik to step back, though he missed the contact as soon as Shaxx let him go. Shaxx opened his mouth to say something, then decided otherwise, closing it with a shake of his head.

“I’ll tell you after,” he said, leaving Sadik with worry building up in his chest. “It’s too important to say right now.”

“If you’re sure,” Sadik signed.

“I’m sure. Go on, your team is waiting.” Sadik left the hall, glancing over his shoulder at Shaxx one last time and offering a tremulous smile. The one he got back was tired and not at all the kind of smile that lit up Shaxx’s eyes, and Sadik wished he could have fixed it before he left.)


	7. "I'll take you home."

Roksana didn’t like to venture too far from Earth, she preferred having clear blue skies and lush grass beneath her feet opposed to the planets that were slowly returning back to their original states without the Traveler’s intervention and humanity’s upkeep.

Still, she dropped everything she was doing to travel to Io the moment she received a message from Sadik’s Ghost. The little AI's message asked for assistance and had an air of amusement hidden in her voice, and while Roksana simply had to know what had the Ghost on the verge of laughing.

Sadik had holed himself up in a cave, head bowed with his hands resting loosely on top of his gun. If she didn’t know him as well as she did, then she would’ve said he was sleeping. But the way his finger was a hair’s breadth away from the trigger and his hand twitched around the barrel when Roksana walked inside. His Ghost appeared from behind him, and she didn’t miss the aborted movement Sadik made to bring his Ghost back to safety.

Roksana smiled. After so many years, she still knew him like the back of her hand. “Hello Önemli,” she greeted the Ghost with a nod of her head.

“Hello hello, Roksy,” Önemli chimed. “Thank you for coming! Sadik’s too embarrassed to ask for anyone else’s help.” Sadik snapped his head up, glaring behind his helmet, and reached for his Ghost who slipped past his grasp and floated closer to the older Titan. “Really, I told him not to fly so close to the Cabal ships, but he didn’t listen. I think he’s turning into an adrenaline junkie.”

Roksana chuckled, watching as Sadik stood up, brushing the pale Io dust off of his mark. “So like every other Guardian? I’ll be sure to keep your pouting a secret.” She winked, and her former student signed angrily at her.

"I wasn’t pouting!"

“Mhm,” she nodded, not believing him at all. “Come on, Sadik, I’ll take you home.” He signed his thanks, then held his hand out for Önemli. “But you get to tell Holliday why you’re down a ship.” She grinned when his head drooped and followed her out of the cave like a scolded Kinderguardian.


	8. “Did you do something different with your hair?”

Physical appearance wasn’t something Asher really bothered to pay attention to. There were better things to occupy his mind than how someone looked, and honestly, it was a waste of time to care so much about appearances.

However, he would have to be blind to miss Ira’s lack of hair. Where there used to be hair that fell to his hips was nothing. His hair had been chopped all the way to the nape of his neck, and without the length given by long, slightly curling locks, Ira’s hair was now a spiky mess, hastily pulled into the smallest ponytail Asher had ever seen. He didn’t miss the way Ira’s hand kept going to the back of his neck and rubbed it nervously, and Asher was curious as to why Ira had done such a thing if he obviously missed the weight and feeling of his hair.

Sela pushed at the fringes of their bond, goading him into talking to Ira, her lilting laughs echoing in his head as he grumbled under his breath and made his way towards the table Ira had set up at.

The table was covered in Hive observations and journals, several of them belonging to that insufferable man, Ewan, and he was glad that the fool wasn’t around. The way that Ira would smile at Ewan always made Asher’s gut twist in a way he couldn’t figure out and it angered him. Ira was picking through the journals, tapping his pen on his thigh as he stared at a page.

“Ira,” he said, catching the other man’s attention as he pulled out another chair to sit next to him. Ira jumped slightly, and Asher could see how deep and dark the bags under his eyes had gotten, the beginnings of worry lines starting to appear on his his forehead. Even the smile he had gotten had the faintest lines framed Ira’s mouth. Still, Sela kept poking at him, offering up awful pick up lines that he valiantly ignored.

“Asher,” Ira said. He closed the journal he had been staring at, and gazed at Asher with tired eyes. “How are you? It’s been a while since we’ve talked.”

Asher couldn’t keep his eyes from rolling. Small talk was tedious at best, Ira knew that. Instead, Asher asked, “Did you do something different with your hair?”

And immediately wanted to jump off the Tower.

Sela was howling with laughter over the bond, and Ira snorted, waving to his head like that was an acceptable answer. “Ignore that,” he pleaded even as Ira shook his head rapidly. “ _Ira_ -”

“I can’t,” Ira wheezed. “Asher, god, _Asher_ -” Ira bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud, his shoulders shaking from the force of keeping it in. He grabbed Asher’s arm and leaned over until his face was hidden in the collar of his robes. Asher hid his face in his hand, supporting himself by propping his elbow on the table. Ira hid his giggles, because that’s what they were, in Asher’s robes, stifling the sound as much as he could. “You’re a wonder, Asher,” Ira gasped.

Asher grumbled. Normally he would’ve pushed Ira off of him by now, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do so. “I’m usually much better than this,” he mumbled into his hand. The short strands of Ira’s new haircut brushed against the underside of his jaw as Ira shook his head again.

“You’re perfect,” he said, still giggling. “Absolutely perfect.”


End file.
